‘So it was. She turned to face him and he kissed her. It is I who am persecuted by the man who calls himself your husband. She walked with an easy quickness down the Avenue and through the proletarian portion of Morningside Park, and crossing these fields came into a pretty overhung lane that led toward Caddington and the Downs. . “Thank God,” he exclaimed. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse.
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